The Beast Who Burns Himself
by JLipikar
Summary: She didn’t care much for an angsty, entirely useless Death Eater but somehow, through all the unkind words, it wasn’t hard to hear him for who he could be. Draco fanfic. After DH but before Epilogue. Please review.
1. Chapter 1

The Beast Who Burns Himself

She didn't care much for an angsty, entirely useless Death Eater but somehow, through all the unkind words, it wasn't hard to hear him for who he could be. Draco fanfic. After DH.

A/N: I've never really liked Draco Malfoy, but I think he needs to be given a chance.

Chapter 1

He was slumped over his table near the darkest corner of The Leaky Cauldron, his left hand curled around a glass of tonic. His bright white hair shone in the darkness because his back was facing the rest of the pub. Most wizards and witches pretended to not notice him, and because of where he was sitting, I'm sure that many did not. Once in a while, however, someone would point him out to his or her friends and a whisper of the worst kind would follow.

Although I was only vacationing in Britain for a year, I had already heard enough about him to form my own terrible opinions. He was a coward, afraid of his old friends but too proud to accept the rest of the world. Even worse, no one knew if he still held onto the same infuriating ideas. It had been only two years since the final demise of Voldemort, and even newspapers in the US had covered the story. Unfortunately, it was my bad luck that I was working in The Leaky Cauldron as a waitress, and he was my customer.

I could feel my heart pounding into my stomach as I slowly walked up to him. Finally, when I was only a few yards away, I stopped and wondered if it would be wise for me to go on. I looked around nervously to see if I could find any looks of reassurance from my coworkers. No one was looking at me, and I realized how stupid I must look. My embarrassment pushed me forward.

"Excuse me."

Slumped in the same position, he looked like he hadn't heard me. Immediately I considered this a blessing but kicked myself when I remembered this was my job. I tried again, louder this time.

"_Excuse _me."

He slowly lifted his head, the back of it still facing me. As I stepped closer to see at least his profile, he replied, "Leave me alone. I don't want anything."

"Yes, I understand, but you see… we're closing a little early tonight. There's been a problem with the cooling. Tom can't get it to work, and soon enough we'll all be burning up so if you could, we're telling all the customers to leave now."

He let out a deep breath and then turned to glare at me. I wasn't really as frightened by his face as I expected to be. He was only two years older than me, and whatever he may be, all I could see in front of me was a defeated, rather annoyed but understanding young man. This was Draco Malfoy?

"I'll get the glass for you. You don't have to."

But he didn't seem to have heard me. Gathering his cloak with his other arm, he slowly walked up to the counter and placed the glass in front of Tom. I followed him as closely as I dared which was at least three feet away. Then he slowly turned and left.

----------

The second time I spoke to him happened soon after. It had been a week since I had met him, if you could call it that, and this time I was placing his fourth glass of firewhiskey on the table next to his slumped head. He happened to look up, perhaps the noise of the glass on the table rousing him, and he recognized my face.

"Oh, it's you," he said.

"Umm, yes it is." I stood beside him, wondering if this conversation would continue further.

"What are you? American?"

"Yeah…" I wanted to be conversational; I just didn't know if it would be the smart thing to do. "Did my accent give it away?"

He laughed a little for some reason, and then replied, "Yeah."

Then it was silence once again as he took the new glass of firewhiskey.

I supposed this meant that he had dismissed me, and I started to walk away.

"Don't you Americans have schools?"

I stopped and turned back around.

"Yes, like everywhere, I think." I couldn't understand what he was getting to.

"Well, why aren't you in one?"

"I graduated this May. I'm taking a year off."

"Oh yeah. That whole… 'going to see the world and learn about life' experience."

His tone so far had been bland laced with bitterness, but this final sentence was particularly bitter.

"Not really. I'm living with my aunt here in Britain."

"Good," he concluded. After that, neither of us said anything and I saw this as my cue to leave.

My coworkers strode to me to hear all about this conversation, and it caused a sensation amongst them for a few minutes. Tom, the pub owner, told me gruffly to avoid speaking to him as much as I could. Unfortunately, I didn't take his advice.

----------

After I got back home that night, I found Aunt Louise hanging up our laundry with her wand, directing the clothes to the clothesline.

"Hello, Melissa. I never can get the shirts to straighten themselves out."

Auntie Louise was a woman of average proportions in her forties with thin lips and rather thin arms. She was fairly beautiful but morally opposed to marriage, calling it a tried and failed tradition. Therefore, she lived alone with her four cats: Almondseed, Domitian, Vespasian, and The Mad Hatter – called Maddie. I was fond of Almondseed, who loved to rub his warm brown fur against my leg, but avoided Maddie because she was, well, mad.

I sat down beside Auntie Louise as Almondseed jumped onto my lap.

"Guess who I talked to again in the pub today?"

I leaned towards her to get her attention and she stopped waving her wand to look at me.

"No!"

"Yep. Draco Malfoy."

"Well! What was he like? Was he nice at all?"

"No. Not really." I told her the entire story.

"Well, if your parents knew…but I won't tell them. As long as you don't marry, it doesn't really matter who you" - here she waggled her eyebrows - "with."

"Aunt Louise!" I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"What! You're a pretty girl, with a bit of the dark beauty about you, eh? Eh?" She started to elbow me, which I could only answer with a sigh and another roll of the eyes. She was talking about the fact that I had long and very dark hair and dark eyes. I also had a habit of wearing colors like burgundy or dark cherry-wood red. I blamed it on the American Muggle teen's recent fascination with cherries. But I was not dark at all. In fact, I was a closet prude.

"Yes, but he is also a Death Eater."

"Something to be overlooked, I'm sure." Then she went back to her attempts at straightening her shirts with her wand. I took out my wand and tried to help her.

"Anyways," she said, "that's what you get for working at The Leaky Cauldron."

"Then why did you refer me to Tom?"

Auntie Louise smiled. "Well don't you think a Death Eater's baby would be a great souvenir to take home to mum and dad?"

If I hadn't known better, I would've believed she was as mad as her cats. My only worry came when I realized that her best subject in school, and her highest score on her NEWTs, had been in Divination.

----------

My aunt's goading had inspired my curiosity. On the next night he was there, I decided to be brave and say hello.

"What would you like today?"

"Shouldn't you know by now?" He seemed meaner when he was sober. Yet he hid from my face, as if afraid to be identified.

"Well, you could have changed your mind. How about a meal today? Or some deserts?"

He turned to look at me with disbelieving eyes. "Don't you know who I am?"

"Well, yes, you're Mr. Malfoy." I could see my left hand shaking from the corner of my eye so I gripped the menu even tighter. I'm sure I looked perfectly normal because he only became more incredulous.

"I'm a Death Eater." He said it like it was something to proud of, but I could tell that he wasn't at all proud of his status.

"I thought that group had…disbanded."

His eyes became slits as he glared at me. "Disbanded… Where are you _from_? First of all, do you think the Ministry even cares? What, do you think anyone in Britain will say that it doesn't matter that I _was_ a Death Eater? For all they care, I still am."

I don't think he had talked so much in weeks. He wanted to speak louder but his voice turned into a harsher whisper instead so that I had to lean towards him to hear.

"And the _only_ reason I am not in Azkaban with my dad is because they haven't had any cold hard evidence to lock me up. But do you think people haven't tried, haven't _lied_ to put me in there? Any one of these people around me would love to see me dead."

The strength of his statement surprised me as did the matter-of-fact tone he placed it in. I had not thought of it that way before, only having seen him as a piece of scum I had learned was to be avoided and abhorred. I had to stand up for the rest of us.

"But you would have loved to see us dead too. You probably still would."

He didn't deny my statement but his face grew only meaner. "Go back to the US or at least your little aunt. Go back to places that you understand."

Thus our third conversation ended.

----------

One night, I was in a particularly happy mood. I would be getting the next day off because it was Albus Dumbledore day, the British day created to celebrate the life and death of one of the most cunning, as well as kind, wizards of our time. No one would be going to work tomorrow. Nothing would be open. It was around closing time, when I was vanishing the messes made by customers, that he called to me. He was only a few feet away.

"You," he said.

"Yes?" I asked, quite surprised by his attention.

"Whass your name?"

I could tell he was very drunk by now, a lot drunker than he usually was.

"Melissa Cory."

"Get me something to eat."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy. We've already started to close."

"I don't pay you to apologize, waitress. Now get me a menu."

I doubted he'd be able to even read a menu by now. Since I knew it was no use arguing with a drunk man, I started to slowly move away.

"Hey!" His voice became sharper. "Come here before I Cruciate you."

People that couldn't handle their liquor usually pissed me off, and ordinarily, I would've told him off or at least ignored him, but there was a small desperation in his voice I couldn't resist. Really, it was his whole personality that I couldn't resist. I found it vile and completely interesting.

"Why are you so happy?"

"Sorry?"

"I've seen you walking around all night, laughing with the other customers. You're excited about tomorrow, aren't you? Happy you won't have to slave after richer wizards for a day."

This British aristocracy thing that I had been noticing really started to wear on me. Usually, you could just feel it in the air that some wizards thought they were better than others, but this was almost like being spit in the face. Never willing to lose my temper to a customer, however, I merely smiled. I guess it was nice to have somebody _say_ what he thought instead of thinking it. I knew a lot of these people thought I was beneath them even though my parents were probably richer than they were.

"Here," he mumbled. He handed me a golden Galleon. "That should cover a few week's meals for you. Then I won't have to hear your repulsive voice for a while."

I was on the verge of biting back.

He laughed. "Can't say anything, can you? Too afraid to lose your job."

That was it. I decided to defy him the way I had only a few other guys in my life.

I leaned towards him until his eyes almost crossed staring at me, and I said in the sweetest voice possible, "I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy. You must have me confused with someone who will listen to you. I could leave this job any second. If you haven't realized, I'm not the one who sits in a corner and drinks everyday because he can't find a friend or a life." Then I gave him a slow, indulging grin and left. You see the best way to tell a guy off is to insult him and attract him at the same time. The moment he will really want you, he'll also realize he's the first one you would deny. And that is when he will really hate his life. I didn't have to look back to know that his face had turned into a sour scowl.

---------

When it was finally time for all of us to leave, and Tom was beginning to put out the lights, Draco Malfoy could still be seen slumped in the corner. I started to walk towards him when Tom said, "You be very careful. If he still doesn't move, I'll handle him."

I agreed and then strode to his table. I called his name a few times. I even prodded him with my wand. Then, finally, I grabbed a chair to sit in front of him.

"Draco."

He groaned. "I won't leave."

"Everyone is leaving now. You have to go."

"No. Stay."

I shifted myself and in the process slightly moved my arm from where it had been on the table. Quickly, he grabbed it and groaned, "Stay."

I stared at him helplessly. What could I do?

"Listen, you can sit in one of the tables outside. It's not very far from here."

"And wait for someone to kill me?"

"No one is going to kill you!" Really.

"Right. Tomorrow is Dumbledore's birthday. I should've dyed my hair."

"Well, isn't there anywhere else you can go? Can't you just apparate?"

"Do I look like I'm in any condition to apparate?"

"Right," I agreed. "I see."

Finally, I made up my mind. "I'll walk you home."

He lifted his head to show me that he thought I was mental.

"I'm pretty sure you'd be out of your mind to harm me when, like you said, everyone is just waiting for you to step out of line."

When he sat in the same position a little longer, Tom began to walk over to us, but suddenly he got up, his haggard, unshaven face looking down at me as his hair spilled into his eyes. "Fine, but you have to stay with me. I don't trust anyone else tonight."

We walked past Tom, Draco not casting anyone a glance, and then we were out onto the street. Before the rest of my coworkers could understand what was happening, we were well away from them, walking down Diagon Alley.

"How far is your house?" I asked.

He answered me with silence. Well, this was going to be fun. I saw people streaming out of other pubs. Some stores were not going to close at all tonight as the celebrations went well into the morning. As a man and a woman walked out of a particularly rowdy pub, their laughter died at the sight of my partner. The man whispered something to his girlfriend, and they purposefully slowed their step so that we could pass them quickly. But Draco continued walking in same slow, drunken pace with his head high as others would stop to stare at us here and there. He took no notice of them. I, however, was becoming extremely self-conscious. Maybe this was not such a good idea. Did they think I was a Death Eater too? Strangely, I would have felt better if it looked like he was forcing me to walk with him. I wanted to shout out to these people that I was not a bad person, but as they continued to stare at both of us, I wondered if I was.

At last, when we had turned into a smaller street, I let out a sigh.

"Embarrassed to walk with me?" He asked.

This time, I chose not to speak.

We walked down another street in silence.

"What if I took you down right here?" he mulled. "Nobody's here. No one would be surprised anyway. A girl walking alone a dark street with a Death Eater. I could kill you, and no one would be surprised."

"But you'd be in jail."

"What if I'm tired of playing nice? Azkaban's not that bad anymore. They've gotten rid of the dementors, banished them from Britain. Wizards don't trust them anymore." He gave a laugh. "I'd be with my dad."

"Do you miss him?" I didn't know where that came from. Something in his tone of voice gave it away that he wasn't serious about taking me down.

"As much as he misses me. Which I don't think is much."

"Why not?"

"He never had the time."

"But he loves you, right?"

We walked a little farther before he spoke. "Of course he loves me."

It felt so strange to talk about love that we continued for the next ten minutes or so in silence again.

"You won't have to walk me all the way home," he said. "I'll apparate when I'm steady enough. I feel like my mind's clearing already."

"Yeah, you just needed some fresh air." I looked up at the sky so full of stars and dark blue clouds. "This is such a great time to be outside."

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice bland.

"I love the night, you know? It's so much more peaceful, so…" I sensed that I just couldn't convey it to him and that made me feel kind of stupid.

"Yeah," he said quietly.

After walking for a few more minutes, he stopped and we faced each other.

"This is good."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "I could hold on to you while you apparate, make sure you do it right. I could help apparate you."

"No, that's okay. I'll be fine."

I still wasn't sure. I didn't want him to be spliced or anything. He was about to turn away when he turned back towards me.

"Thanks," he said, and then he disappeared.

---------


	2. Chapter 2

"You Britons really need to learn to adopt Muggle fashions," I was telling Aunt Louise as we walked down Diagon Alley. She had decided I needed more robes because most of my clothes were just too Muggle-ish. "They're pretty and perfect camouflage."

"I don't think anyone here needs camouflage, Melissa. We are almost completely separated from their world."

"Yes, and that's the problem. That's exactly the problem. You all don't coexist here like we do."

"You mean pretend to be Muggles? No, I'm afraid we don't."

I put my arms on my hips in frustration and then folded them. "I'm not attacking your culture—"

"My culture? I thought it was _our_ culture."

"Yes, I'm sorry, it is. I mean I'm not attacking British culture but… _robes_? Honestly, they're so tacky compared to today's fashions. I bet the French don't wear robes. Look at these shoes! Pilgrims wore these shoes! You have to agree that it's a little outdated. My purse clashes with everything."

"Then we'll buy you a new purse, but don't expect me to go into a Muggle store with you."

"I wouldn't," I grumbled. She'd look ridiculous anyway, I thought, staring at her long light pink dress robes.

We stepped into Madam Malkin's where Aunt Louise immediately spotted some purses in the front.

"Oh look," she said. "This one turns different colors depending on your mood. See, green means happy. It's all on this sheet."

"That's not tacky," I muttered sarcastically.

I could tell she heard me because she made a face and went to the next one.

"And look at this little purse," she pointed to a pouch. "Right here it says you could fit a hippogriff inside of it! Imagine that! I wonder if they've ever tried to."

"Auntie Louise," I sighed. "I could never wear that on my shoulder. I'd have to hold that thing wherever I go. And it looks… too shiny."

"That's because it says here that it's made from unicorn hairs. I wonder what's the price." She bent down and then jumped back up with an "Oh!"

"Nevermind," she mumbled, moving on.

"So what's been happening with your Death Eater friend?" she asked conversationally.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "He's kind of depressing."

I hadn't seen him in the Leaky Cauldron since our walk down Diagon Alley but it had only been three days. I was wondering if I would see him tonight.

"He's the quiet type, is he?" she asked knowingly.

"No, he's more like… the depressing, drunk type."

"Well, don't let him get you too down," advised as she patted my hand. "Look at this robe. It's very silky and black, your favorite color."

I had to bite back that I wouldn't dare be draped in black silk in the middle of summer and steered her to some semi-transparent shawls instead.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

I was pleased to find him that night sitting at his favorite table and actually looking sober.

"He's been waiting for you," Tom said gruffly. "I think you should be more careful. I saw the two of you the other night. But it's up to you to decide whether you're going to listen to an old man."

"I'll be careful," I reassured him.

When I finally reached where he was sitting, I noticed that he had been watching me.

"When do you get off?" he asked.

"Umm, seeing as I just came in, probably in four or five hours."

"Can't you get off earlier?"

"Probably," I half-heartedly guessed. I'd have to give Tom a fake excuse.

"Do you want to do something with me tonight?"

His calm demeanor barely hid his anticipation and simultaneous fear of rejection. Deep inside, I knew that this was what I had hoped for but now that the moment had actually arrived, warning lights went off in my head.

"I… I don't know." Looking at him, I was sure he wouldn't ask me again. "Okay," I conceded, my voice remarkably small.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

He was costing me a few hours pay. I had told him that I didn't really need it, but I was trying to make enough spending money so that I wouldn't have to ask my parents for every little luxury. That money would have gone to something good.

We were inside a dark, very expensive restaurant. The deep forest green booth cushions felt like new velvet as I moved my fingesr over them, not the kind of velvet that flattened and cracked after several people had sat on it but a far more expensive variety. Our triangular glasses glinted in the small light, his with a green olive in it. Here he looked much more relaxed, his arm spread over his seat as he reclined himself and looked up at me on his opposite side. We had just ordered. He asked for the usual while I opted for something significantly cheaper.

"You don't have to worry about that," he said once the waiters had left with our menus. "Obviously, I'll be paying for everything."

I tried not to shift uncomfortably in my seat. "This is a nice place," I said. The restaurant somehow made me feel very small.

"I like you," he replied. "You have no idea who I am."

"Yes, well…" That wasn't a very good reason for liking someone.

"I mean, you actually think I'm a good guy."

"I wouldn't go that far… worth talking to, I guess."

He gestured with his hand dismissively. "Whatever. Same thing. I'm saying I almost feel normal with you."

If we were anywhere else, his arrogance would have amused me, but here it felt like our entire surroundings agreed.

"So what do you do here in Britain, anyway?" he asked, his voice so completely haughty. "Other than working at the pub."

"I spend time with my aunt. She never married so I don't have any cousins. I play with her cats. They're a lot of fun."

"Sounds exciting," he said, looking around.

"I might travel in a few months. I have a few other relatives in Europe."

"So you are seeing the world." I had his attention again.

"No, I'm just visiting relatives really."

"No, that's okay… that's admirable."

"Why were you so bitter about it then?"

"Just seems like a lot of people come back with the wrong ideas – Quirrell, The Dark Lord."

"So you think they _did_ have the wrong ideas?"

"Yeah, I guess. It's what everyone keeps telling me. He was a bastard, anyway."

"Lord Voldemort?"

Draco winced at the name. "Yeah. He betrayed my parents. We were slaving for him and he would've killed us if we stopped being useful. He didn't respect us. He didn't respect anyone."

As I looked at him, I could see him bristling with hurt pride.

"You're very proud of your family, aren't you?"

"Of course I'm proud. We're one of the greatest pureblood houses left, but he didn't care. We thought he did, but he didn't."

I remembered hearing that the Death Eaters were obsessed with bloodlines, and his statement about being a pureblood disturbed me. No one cared about that kind of thing back home. I doubted there were any purebloods in Massachusetts anyway. I decided I'd ask him about this stupid fixation later.

The waitress came to us with two large plates.

"Finally!" he said. "I was starving!"

I doubted that he had ever come close to starving.

"What _is_ that?" he asked, looking at my plate with a frown. "Is that a salad?"

"Well, yeah, I think so. It looked good on the menu. See, it's got a lot of interesting fruits."

I tasted the sauce with the chicken strips. "Not bad," I replied.

He didn't seem convinced. "Let me taste it." He took a few bites and then grimaced again.

"Why did you get that thing? Here, take some of this." Then he placed half of the food from his plate onto a spare plate and slid it to me. It was true that his order looked much better and there was so much of it that the two of us could easily be filled. Yet I couldn't help but object.

"No," I smiled. "This is really good. I'm telling you, I'm fine."

"Are you serious?" He frowned, still staring at the salad. "No, my food is much better. _Never_ get a salad when you're eating with me."

"I guess I won't," I happily murmured under mouthfuls of his delicious pork.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

The conversation of bloodlines turned up a lot faster than I had imagined. Guessing that he was obsessed with it, I'm sure he wanted to know, and it seemed that Draco didn't really waste time with anything.

"So are you are a pureblood?" He asked at the end of our dinner.

"I don't think anyone in Massachusetts is a pureblood anymore," I cautiously replied. "We're all for mixing in the US because there weren't many witches and wizards in the beginning. I come from a famous line from my mother's side though, at least famous back home. Have you ever heard of the Salem witches?"

He didn't show any signs of recognition.

"I guess they don't teach that kind of stuff at your school."

"No, our history teacher was just really boring."

"Well, they were persecuted by the Muggles. What's interesting is that my father's side goes back to those persecutors."

"That's horrible."

"Actually, I think it's kind of romantic. It's like Romeo and Juliet, you know?"

"Who?"

I smiled and shook my head. Of course he wouldn't know. "A famous Muggle story."

"You guys are really into Muggles, then, aren't you?"

"We try not to discriminate." I couldn't look at him when I said that. I noticed him grow quiet, and when I did look back up at him, he was staring out of the window.

"I guess this means our dinner is done?" I asked him quietly. It seemed to jerk him out of his thoughts.

He reluctantly blinked back at me, and then, rather slowly, said, "No."

"No," he repeated. "I don't care if you're a Muggle lover or half a Mudblood. Actually," here he looked back out the window, "did you know that the Dark Lord was half Mudblood too? And some of the Death Eaters like Snape… but he wasn't one…"

I vaguely remembered that name, but I was too surprised by his reply to ask any questions. I guess people could really change? After all, it had been two years, and I was probably one of the few people that even paid attention to him now. If you talk about getting a wake up call, he'd practically been thrown out of his bed.

"So what are we going to do now?" I asked.

"You want to go back to my place?" He replied.


End file.
